


Binary Stars

by jaredcronchdaddy



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Bi, F/F, Girlfriends - Freeform, Lesbian, alana and jared are best friends, alana's pov, galaxy girls, zolana
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 00:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14800937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaredcronchdaddy/pseuds/jaredcronchdaddy
Summary: bi·na·ry starˈbīnərē ˌstär,ˈbīˌnerē stär/nouna system of two stars in which one star revolves around the other or both revolve around a common center.Alana has a big gay crush on a girl she meets in group therapy, and Zoe's not sure what she feels. Content warnings will be added before each chapter!!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> cw: mentions of mental illness

I feel guilty a lot. Sometimes about things that aren’t even my fault. But they feel like it. They feel like my fault. I feel so guilty I can’t even breathe. That’s what I’m thinking when my group leader jolts me out of my thoughts,

“Alana?”

Shit.

“Sorry- what was the question?” My face is hot and all of the other members are staring at me, I can feel it. Especially the eyes of the pretty girl who sits across from me. They’re boring into my head.

“Do you think you experience more warranted or unwarranted shame?”

I gulp and push up my glasses, “Uh- unwarranted?” I say it like a question even though I know it's true. She moves on and I finally exhale. 

Shame, guilt, it's all the same really. I tap my pen against the handout and leave small dots along the margin. I glance up at Zoe (the pretty girl across from me.) She’s not paying attention, she’s doodling all over her handout, even over the words, just dozens and dozens of swirls. She has tan skin, maybe she’s gone on vacation recently? She has freckles on her nose but not really anywhere else. And nice hands. Really nice hands. Her nails are painted blue and her right wrist has 5 multi colored bracelets on it. She dresses cool too, a pair of jean overalls, big t-shirt, and birkenstocks. I wish I could dress as laid back as her. Maybe she senses my eyes because she looks up at me. Shit. Her eyes are hazel. Sort of brown sort of green. I get stuck in them, unable to look away. I force my eyes down to my paper, unbelievably embarrassed. Guilty again. Guilty for staring and making her uncomfortable when this should be a safe place. Guilty for being attracted to her and having a dumb crush that makes me stare. Not even a big crush! It's just that every time she talks it's so bright. All her words go up like she’s excited, even when she’s nervous. Her leg is always jumping up and down at a breakneck pace and sometimes, it shakes the table. Everything about her is just so- strong, and bright, and real. I can’t tell if I want the brightness for myself or if I’d just like to watch it for a while. 

My musings are cut short as our leader releases us, letting us know what the homework will be for next week. I stand and survey my group members, what an odd bunch we are. Me: closeted lesbian, grieving (depressed), generalized anxiety. Technically I shouldn’t know what everyone else is dealing with, but some people don’t mind sharing, and some are easy to infer. Zoe: ADHD, anxiety, bad parents. Izzy: depression. Andrew: borderline personality disorder, anorexia. Enigmas: John, Fernanda, and Gem. I say goodbye to Carol and leave before she has the chance to ask why I was distant today.

I walk down the steps quickly, already punching my roommates number into my phone. I don’t really drive, it makes me too anxious.

“Jared?”

I hear a burp from the other side of the line as my best friend/roommate/idiot picks up.

“LANS. Are you done already?”

“Yeah. Ended early again,” I glance around, knowing my fellow group members will be downstairs soon, “How far are you?”

“Fuck. I’m like 6 minutes out. I’m so sorry. Will you be okay?”

The true answer was no. I hate to be outside for long, it feels dangerous and vulnerable. I also hate in between things. Things like waiting for rides that have no structure or schedule, I have no clue what to do with myself and I just get more and more upset until I have a panic attack. But I don’t want him to feel bad. So I lie,

“I’ll be fine Jare. No worries.” I smile even though he can’t see.

“Okay. I’ll be there soon. Gotta nyoom.”

He hangs up and I let out a small giggle. Jared always manages to make me laugh, and I appreciate that. I appreciate most things about him. I’ve always liked being friends with boys better, maybe because I’m gay? I don’t know. But it's nice to be bestfriends with a boy who won’t be attracted to me and knows I won’t like him. I’ve had a few really awkward experiences with boys who like me. It's nice to avoid straight people. Jared is one of the only real life people I’m out to, which makes him the closest person I have in a lot of ways.

“Whatcha smilin’ at?”

My eyes shoot up and I see Zoe standing there, eyebrows raised, waiting for me to answer. Oh jeez. I laugh awkwardly,

“Oh! just my friend, he’s an idiot.”

Zoe quirks an eyebrow up and smirks, “That smile? all for a friend?”

I gasp out a laugh, I know I should come out to her. I’ve been meaning to do that more often, my therapist says if I start with low risk strangers it’ll be easier. I pause a moment longer to steel my confidence, 

“Actually I’m. ..a Lesbian, so-”

Zoe pretends to slap her face, “God! Sorry I must look like a straight mom projecting onto her toddler.” She laughs at her own joke, it's cute, “All- my little ladies man! and shit.” 

Zoe calms her excitement. When she told the joke she started to bounce up and down on her tiptoes, jumping but not really. See? Bright. She can’t even hold her happy in. She shook her head,

“I’m gay too- bi- but gay so,” She does a thumbs up, “No bigot here.” She seems embarrassed about getting excited. The whole time I’d just been nodding passively but I manage to choke out a, 

“Cool!”

Just then, Jared pulls up and rolls down the window. He speaks in a stage whisper like he’s trying not to startle me, but it still does,

“LANA-”

I wave to him and look back to Zoe. She smiles understandingly and stands on her tiptoes as she waves goodbye,

“See you next week, Alana!”

I give her a hurried wave, suddenly unable to speak. That’s the first time she’s ever said my name. I get into Jared’s car and he pulls away quickly, not one to wait either. He smirks as he pulls out of my treatment center’s parking lot,

“That the girl? She’s hot.”

I shove his arm playfully, “Shut up.”

Jared gasps, “HEY! No hitting the driver!”

I look over to him, fighting back a smile, “I came out to her.”

“NO SHIT?”

That’s one of my other favorite things about Jared. He always know when to get excited. Always knows when to shout so I don’t feel like I need hide my smile anymore. I grin.

“It went well? Really well,” I lose my composure, “She’s BI!”

Jared hoots, “HELL YEAH BABEY!! Operation Zolana is a GO!”

My face gets hot and I knit my eyebrows together, “Z-Zolana?”

Jared winks, “It’s a ship name, just came up with it right now. Whaddya think?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: detailed memory of childhood emotional neglect/abuse

I watch Alana drive off and see her shove her friend’s arm. It's funny because she didn’t seem so confrontational before. I wonder if there’s more to her. I notice myself sucking on my necklace and immediately spit it out. I’ve been working on chilling the fuck out and not doing stimmy things in public but it's hard. They feel like a second nature. I grumble over to my pickup truck. I've always liked it because it doesn't seem like the sort of car that a 19 year old girl should have. It seems like the car of an old southern dude who dips. I notice that I'm doing it again, the wanting to be quirky thing. I wish I based fewer of my decisions on being interesting. I start to get upset so I push it away and focus at the task at hand. I crank the engine and roll down all of the windows, my AC hasn't been working the greatest lately. I pull out of the parking lot and wonder what it would feel like to be Alana. 

She must be close to her friend to have shoved him like that, and he'd called her- fuck what was it? Lana. My stomach aches with jealousy. I want that. I wonder what it feels like when her tight button up shirts press against her neck, and I feel sorry for her. I guess its just my ADHD brain but I can't stand tight or scratchy fabrics. I wonder what it would be like to be normal. Not so sensitive to sensory input I mean. On that note I reach into my backpack in the passenger seat. Probably a dangerous move, and pull out my chewy necklace. Without people around I'm free to use it without worrying anyone will think I'm a toddler. It being shaped like a green dinosaur doesn't help with that much. I start chewing and immediately feel more at ease. 

Alana is pretty, but in a cold way. She seems... far. She has nice lips and dark brown eyes and dark skin and dark hair and everything about her is just so, rich. Even the colors she wears, gem tones, she seems like the universe's optimal color palette. She's overly nice, like she's always afraid someone will get mad at her. I don't mind. I think kind people are so much better than mean ones. And she's gay! That makes me smile because I love meeting people like me. Anytime I meet another gay girl I fall in love with her, just a little. I like Alana's smile. Her teeth are big and square like pieces of gum. That thought makes me giggle and I make fun of Inner-Zoe, "Wow, you're a fuckin comedian now?". My grandma always said the best characteristic someone could have is the ability to make yourself laugh. I'm not so sure about that. I miss my grandma, she was one of the only good family members I had. I swallow as I turn into my college campus. 

Family. Not fucking today Zoe. I slap the dial to turn on the radio hoping for a distraction, but I can't help the memories that come as Video Killed the Radio Star plays. 

They're laughing at me like always. I've fallen, scraped my knee. I look up at my parent's face as I sob, with big whooping sounds. I can't be more than six. My tiny hand points down at my bloody knee and my mother purses her lips,

"Zoe honey, its just a scratch, calm down." She looks to my father and brother with widened eyes and they all fight back a grin. I feel like there's some joke I'm being left out of and it makes me mad. I wipe my nose on my sleeve and my brows furrow,

"Mommy! it HURTS."

Dad and Connor are laughing now, Dad says something like he means to whisper but its loud as fire works,

"There goes DQ again."

I turn to him, full of rage with tears still streaming,

"I AM NOT A DRAMA QUEEN."

They all laugh again and my Dad pats my head like I'm some dog. Silly stupid Zoe, she cries about everything. I'm so angry I forget about my knee. I ball up my small fist and I punch my dad in the stomach. 

"DON'T CALL ME DQ."

They're in hysterics now. I don't know if its my tears or anger but I can't see. I keep punching my dad as much as I can over and over, 

"STOP IT. STOP. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT." 

I quit screaming to catch my breath and blink away the tears. My family is in stitches, every time they try to stop laughing, I do something new. I don't get the joke. I don't know why they're making fun of me. I cry helplessly now as my mother pulls me away from my Dad, suddenly sober.

"Zoe Olivia Murphy. I have told you. We don't hit others."

I just stare at her. I don't understand why I'm getting in trouble. They always told me that if anyone ever made fun of me, to punch them right in the nose, that they would be proud. I don't understand why Dads can't be the bullies I hit. 

Then the memory begins to morph. My mother's fingers grow sharp as they dig into my arm. Their laughs get louder and louder and I see Connor smile so big he's like the Cheshire cat. Everything is red and sharp. I can't see anymore. I feel my legs go limp.

I realize that I've started crying. I don't remember parking but I'm sat in a lot not far from my dorm room. My chewy necklace lays in my lap and my hands shake as they attempt to hold the steering wheel. Video Killed the Radio Star has ended and some dumb mattress ad is playing. I slowly reach to shut it off and lean my head against the steering wheel. I feel so tired of remembering.

I know I'm getting out and grabbing my necklace and bag. I know I'm using my ID to go in through the back door. I know I'm sitting down on my bed. I know that I don't see my roommate. I know all of these things but I feel so incredibly far away. Like a ghost Zoe hovering above the real me. Like a memory from a future self, one that would find my hands tiny too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that one was a little dark. stay safe kids.  
> me, seeing zoe: Time To Project. 3bh all the characters i write are just different small parts of my personality that i exaggerate into a person.

**Author's Note:**

> in which i am jared. hope u liked it, lemme know!!! i'm @ justlikeblart on twitter come say hello!


End file.
